


Lentils for Breakfast

by Melody_Harkness, somebodyloving



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, a short story, literally just a snapshot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-11
Updated: 2014-11-11
Packaged: 2018-02-25 01:13:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2603096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melody_Harkness/pseuds/Melody_Harkness, https://archiveofourown.org/users/somebodyloving/pseuds/somebodyloving
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brilliant mind of the famous consulting detective was still somehow asleep but the smell of something very familiar got through his nostrils to the neurons and brought his brain back to life. </p><p><i>„Lentils? For God’s sake, lentils, again?“</i> asked Sherlock in disgust. He didn‘t expect the reaction from the cook, though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lentils for Breakfast

**Author's Note:**

> This is a short story written by my friend Lusius and translated and modified by me from Czech into English (with her permission, of course). Since, she didn't want to publish it herself I decided to do it instead. I think it is funny and worth publishing:).  
> I might write a follow-up but it wasn't intended to be longer than it is now. I can't make any promises. I can be persuaded by your comments and feedback (and Lusius too, I think :D). And by that I mean I appreaciate you reading this either by chance or deliberately ;).  
> English is not my first language so I apologize for mistakes.  
> The story is betad by my dear friend lokidiabolus. <3

Drowsy with tousled hair and circles under his eyes - this is how Sherlock Holmes looked like that morning. He went downstairs and walked into the kitchen. He had played the violin again last night and as usual a noise disturbance at very early hours of the day hadn’t stopped Sherlock from doing it on a regular basis. ( _„Sleeping is boring“_ . That’s how he always justified himself.)

Brilliant mind of the famous consulting detective was still somehow asleep but the smell of something very familiar got through his nostrils to the neurons and brought his brain back to life.

 _„Lentils? For God’s sake, lentils, again?“_ asked Sherlock in disgust. He didn‘t expect the reaction from the cook, though.

John Watson turned around from the stove, annoyed, and started waving angrily with a cooking spoon right in front of Sherlock’s eyes. It was close enough to make Sherlock subconsciously move back slowly, step by step, from the kitchen which he felt was changing into a battlefield, to the living room.

 _„Of course it‘s bloody lentils again. And do you know why? Do you?!“_ Against his will Sherlock was still trying to escape from the angry doctor. _„Because of you, as always. First, it was milk. That I tolerated. But now it’s also meat. And everything because of your stupid and utterly pointless experiments. And I’m not even mentioning the fridge full of heads, eyes and other parts of bodies. I’m gonna have a serious talk with Molly.“_

The whole speech was being followed by John’s expressive gesticulation worthy of Sherlock himself and it ended with a strong slam of the cooking spoon against the table.

Before Sherlock was even capable of making up any suitable answer, John marched away to the hall, took his coat, slammed the door and disappeared.

Paralyzed, the detective sat down into his arm chair next to the fireplace. Pressing his palms together under his chin, he was trying to analyse John’s behaviour.

It wasn’t the first time he had left nothing but organs in the fridge. And it wasn’t the first time he had played the violin late at night either. Something more complicated was behind John’s tantrum.

Sherlock started marching around the living room, chuntering to himself. John’s behaviour was a mystery to him.

Although he usually hadn’t paid attention to a passing time that much, John not coming back was somehow unsettling and anxiety was slowly creeping into his mind. Even though he had never admitted it, Sherlock was getting nervous.

He was missing something but couldn’t think of anything useful. In a fit of sulkiness, Sherlock ran up the stairs and burst into John’s room. Everything was as it should have been, there was nothing unusual. The detective didn’t bother to think about the wrongness of an invasion of John’s privacy. That’s why he started rummaging through John’s stuff in the drawers. All of a sudden, he stopped. He found John’s birth certificate. Besides the obvious like John’s middle name being Hamish, he noticed something else. His brain put all the strings together and Sherlock realized what had been the cause of John’s furious scene earlier. Three days ago it was John’s birthday.

Sherlock didn‘t care about the trivialities of the world around him. But he knew what celebrations of birthdays meant to the majority of the people and that these days, not particularly different from other days in his opinion, were somehow important. So he called Lestrade and asked him for help to fix it.


End file.
